


I had the feeling (you'd follow your heart)

by Skyepilot



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Cold Weather, F/M, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Gift Giving, Hot Weather, Humor, Letters, Phone Calls & Telephones, Romance, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26573794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: Marta and Benoit's relationship develops as the Seasons change.
Relationships: Benoit Blanc/Marta Cabrera
Comments: 12
Kudos: 49





	I had the feeling (you'd follow your heart)

***W I N T E R***

The house is big and cold.

Even with the fire and the heat on, it always had a draft. And it feels empty, _gigantic_. The three of them haven't filled it yet, although her sister is trying.

She picks up her sister's fluffy bathrobe off the chair near the fire and wraps it around her before going to the knock at the front door, trying to outpace her mother. She doesn't want her to have to brave the cold.

The delivery driver hands over the package, and she notices the scarf wrapped around their mouth and nose just as the chill wacks her through the opening in the door.

Thanking him with a crisp breath she takes the box and looks down at it as her mother shuts the door before them with a shiver.

“Did you order something?” her mother asks her, staring down at the label. She shakes her head in reply.

The tiny letters on the delivery label read: B. Blanc.

Her sister's footsteps sound on the stairs, and with her earbuds in she approaches, looks to their expressions, and then down at the box.

“It says B. Blanc,” she says over her music.

“ _Thanks_ ,” Marta replies quickly, trying not to roll her eyes, walking towards the kitchen with the package.

“It's Marta's famous detective,” Alice announces to their mother, following after her sister.

She sets the brown box down on the kitchen cabinet and draws a knife out of the butcher block, then stares at it.

“Abrelo..let's see what's inside,” her sister says, planting her elbows on the counter, turning down the music with her phone.

“Leave your sister alone,” her mother replies. “If she wants some privacy to open this gentleman's box-”

“ _Detective_ Blanc,” Marta reminds them both, and with a sigh, she draws the tip of the blade carefully along the seal of tape.

Opening the top and reaching down into it and feels the softness almost at the same time she sees them.

“Fuzzy slippers,” her sister says, laughing. “Ohmigod, he knows you so well!

She sets them down on the countertop and then looks down into the box again and sees the handwritten note resting at the bottom.

Pulling the paper out she tugs on her bottom lip with her teeth as she reads to herself.

_Dear Miss Cabrera,_

_More a foot-warming than a house-warming gift, but something to hold the chill at bay, I hope? I have been swept away to warmer climes by another intrigue. Although, I can't imagine that anyone could outdo my last, Watson._

_Gratefully,_

_-B. Blanc_

“You can microwave them,” her mother says helpfully, looking at the tag on the slippers which seem to Marta a familiar shade of pale blue.

“ _Gratefully_?” her sister says, now leaning over her shoulder, peering at the note. “Nice handwriting. Do you think I could hire him to do my graduation envelopes?”

“Alice!” their mother warns, handing the slippers to Marta.

She takes the fluffy footwear, tears off the tags, then puts them in the microwave and turns it on, taps her foot on the kitchen tile.

_Warmer climes._

The game is afoot. Literally.

***S P R I N G***

This case has dragged out longer than he expected.

Even the cheerful bloom of pink roses outside of the open cafe window on a sunny day can't relieve this lingering... _malaise_.

Putting the pieces together requires him to be at the scene, which means travel. He uses this time to observe the mysteries of the human condition, such as they are, through a window on a fine sunny day like this.

But he can't shake the feeling of being untethered, _antsy,_ even, as he drinks his cup of tea and tries to distract himself again with the view and focus on the facts of the case at hand.

Standing, he takes his suit jacket off and slips it over the back of the cafe chair, removing his phone and setting it on the table, sits back down, linking his fingers together.

Staring at his phone sitting on the tabletop as though it could produce The Answer. He thinks that perhaps _some_ clarity would help him put together the pieces. And who better to help with a fresh perspective than someone as clever and kind as Marta Cabrera?

What do you do with the truth once you have it? He's always known what to do before. It is simply too impertinent and impulsive to ask anything more of her now. He did before out of sheer necessity, and she's been through enough.

Yet, the phone is in hand. He stops as the hotel concierge -with whom he's on a first-name basis at this point- brings him a small package and deposits it on the cafe table, waits patiently for the tip he knows will follow.

There is another package inside the brown-wrapped package. A neat floral on the outside paper, familiar in both pattern and scale, and he finds himself smiling.

The solution to his malaise has apparently found him after all.

There is only a moment of hesitation as he unwraps it and removes the lid and seeing a small glass vial inside. By the looks of it, the kind someone might use to store medications.

He lifts it up between his thumb and finger to the sunlight and examines the clear liquid inside, guesses at the content, then down at the hand-written note that still remains in the box.

Unfolding the neat square, he reaches into his lightweight suit jacket with his free hand and takes out a cigar, preparing it carefully before he lights it, holding the letter before him to contemplate.

_Dear B. Blanc,_

_I thought you might enjoy a little bit of winter down south. Although by the time it gets to you, it will have changed its state. Do you know why it's so quiet after a snowfall? It's because the air gets trapped between the snow crystals, it can't vibrate. It just has to wait._

_Le saluda atentamente,_

_-Marta Cabrera_

“For the snow to harden,” he says aloud, finishing her explanation, pressing his mouth against his knuckles.

He's never longed so much for the cold.

***S U M M E R***

Her sister texted her as soon as she saw the news on Twitter.

Alice keeps track of Ransom's fans since they started talking about the details of the case, including their family, and formed a theory that it's all his lawyers doing.

She looks at the text again and this is, what, Alice's fourth threat to go to law school?

_Not guilty._ She expected nothing less from him at the arraignment. Now it will go to trial.

She answers her sister back that she's okay, and asks her how their vacation is going. They took the advice to head for warmer climes, but no such luck for Marta, trying to get the collection in the house ready for auction. Going through all of Harlan's stuff.

Just sitting out here on the patio, alone, soaking up what is left of the summer sun. Not a beach in sight.

Her thoughts are interrupted by her phone ringing, frozen for a moment when she sees the number displayed.

“Hello?” she asks, answering it just before the third ring.

“Hello, Miss Cabrera,” he says in her ear, fuzzy and warm.

“Hello,” she repeats, sitting back into the patio chair, feeling herself start to relax at the sound of his voice, a moment of tingling self-awareness of this fact. “I'm sure you heard about the plea?”

There is a moment of silence, and she sits up straight again. “Hello?”

“Hello! Yes. I am so very sorry,” he says with concern. “Although that was not my sole reason for reaching out to you today.”

“No?” she asks curiously, straightening her legs out to catch the sun again, and propping her feet on the outdoor coffee table.

“Although, I would have touched on that subject eventually,” he adds. “It's just...the heat down here has indeed become _truly_ unbearable.”

“Hmm,” she returns, thinking it over with the beginnings of a smile, pushing her sunglasses onto the top of her head as though she is picturing their eyes meeting. “Don't you even want to know how I was able to track you down?”

“Watson,” he says, with a returned smile she can hear. “The great detective only reveals all at the very end.”

She feels her breath catching a bit, and swallows, the only time she can remember to be glad to be alone in this giant house.

“I'm guessing you'll be called to testify?” she tells him.

“That would be my pleasure, of course,” he answers, lingering in a pause. “How _is_ the weather there, if you don't mind my asking?”

“Oh, it's nice here,” she tells him, sinking down into the cushions, stretching. “Sunny. _Cool_. Not a sweater or scarf in sight.”

“I see,” he says, releasing his breath after a pause.

“You _could_ see if you were here,” she tells him boldly. “I happen to have a spare room if you're looking for a place to stay? To prepare for the trial, of course.”

“Yes, of course. I would be ever so grateful.”

***F A L L***

The benefit of having _grounds_ is that you can find so many ways to be alone.

It's absurd. You just start walking in almost any direction. How safe it feels now when she would never have considered something like this before.

Benoit at her side, crunching along happily through the fallen leaves, as he reaches out and tugs at her hand, pulling her close to his side.

His expressive nature isn't limited to his enthusiasm for solving mysteries. Entirely lovable but, not ideal when you live with family, even in such a big house.

Her mother complimented his singing voice at breakfast this morning, as he politely thanked her and then they locked eyes, making her squirm before he went back to dutifully lettering Alice's graduation envelopes.

“I would never have cracked that case without you, Watson,” he tells her, a wistful smile on his face as she glances up at him. Then he lowers his head and his voice. “I am once again, indebted to you.”

She beams as she lets go of his hand and leads ahead, picking out a copse of trees before them, turning and grabbing the ends of the hand-knit scarf around his neck and yanking on it, pulling him towards her.

“It's time to pay up, Blanc,” she says to him, mock seriously, trying out a bossier tone.

His soft expression melts into the tiniest groan, as he steps to her, first holding her face between his hands for a brief moment like he is memorizing her, before dipping his head and kissing her softly.

He is _so_ unfair.

Trying to not be bothersome by lingering here after _their_ case? How dare he? And yes, she was overwhelmed. How could she not be? She missed his reassurance in the middle of the madness, his nice-

“Oh, that is _nice_ ,” he tells her, as she trails kisses along his cheek, to a spot on his neck just below his ear, tugging at the lapels of his coat until she feels her back up against a tree.

“ _Marta_.”

He says her name like its a caress. And it's not quite enough now, is it? She needs his hands all over her this time.

She can see their breath floating in the air, and the sun is starting to fade making the golden leaves still on the tree gleam, bracketed by his arms as he presses them both up against its trunk. It's going to get very cold soon her nurse brain reminds her.

That they wanted to be more than friends didn't take long to figure it out once events conspired to bring them back together again.

_They_ conspired a bit, too. They can practically finish each other's sentences now and it's only been a month.

“Do you want to-?” she asks him, her eyes locked on his, hands parting his coat sliding down the front of his suit, and dropping to his belt.

“Ah, sweet mystery of life, at last, I've found thee,” he hums against her ear, his lips curling into a smile before he puts the tip of one glove between his teeth and slides his hand free.

She starts to laugh, as he slips off the other glove, and pockets them. Then it turns into a sigh.

And he puts his hands on her.


End file.
